Some old Pictures

Well-e, well-e, well-e--lookie what I've found. A picture of my buddy Clark. Hm. It is ac tually amazing, the number of pictures I've taken in which people are flipping me off. I ought to start a special photo album some day.

I just wanted to jot down some thoughts on the MA program--mostly for me (so I can look back one day and be amused. Or bemused). I had been feeling down about the whole program ("Was it rigerous enough? Would I be able to find a job? Would I be qualified to find a job? Was I getting the right training?") so I went and spoke to one the professors about it. Not only did she make me feel better about the program (she told me that one of the reasons she came to SU was because of the MA in TESOL program) but she told me that, in both of the classes I was taking with her, I had scored the highest on the tests and that she was very pleased with my progress. Then she said that she thought I could finish in a year and a half. TUrns out I only need 33 credits. She said that she would be willing to do an independant study with me to get me through quicker. I told her that I wanted to do some research, try to get published.

So now I'm thinking about this research thing. I have some rough ideas in my head right now. Judging from the studies I've seen, I don't think it would be too difficult to get something published. I want to do something on using music to teach English to illiterate adults. Thing is, it would be difficult to set up, it would be difficult to control, and it would be difficult to test. I mean, how do you measure acheivement in illiterate adults? You can't give them a test. I suppose some type of oral exam would work. THere has been a lot of research in using music to teach vocabulary, but I want to go beyone that. From what I've read, music and language are processed in some of the same parts of the brain. I want to know if I can use music to activate the language centers. But that might be too complicated. For all I know, I would need a brain lab to conduct that type of experiment. Hmm. Maybe I can seduce a brain surgeon. Yeah, probably not. I just wish I could find some more hard-core scientific information about the brain and how it processes language and music. Especially music. I've been looking and I just don't have anything. All I can find are a bunch of namby-pamby educational theories about using music to stimulate relaxation and thus promote learning. Eh. I want a more scientific base as a starting point.

But what I really need to be doing right now is focusing on my classwork. I still have my Field Observation to write. ANd I've got a "culture casework" project for my Sociolinguistics class (I'm going to study the Ozarks. Again. Hell, it's interesting stuff--if my relatives can deal with me following them around with a tape-recorder and a camera over Thanksgiving break). ANd I still have to do my big paper for my linguistics class. Ehh. Some chapter critique-lesson plan-
analysis sort of thing. And then there is the project for my Ed Reasearch class...

Still, at least I don't have three things due every week (like I did during the month of October). Hopefully I will have some time to relax in November (or at least some time to work on various projects). Oh, then there is the little matter of my disolving French. ANd that whole learning Spanish thing. Oh. And the Oboe, demanding mistress that she (it? he?) is. (I still don't know if my Oboe has a gender. Probably best not to ask.) Ehh, and exercising (which I skipped all last week because I was fighting a cold. But now no more excuses. Well, except for the fact that my knees are crap. So unfair. I mean, if I am going to have crap knees, why can't I be skinny and not have to exercise?)

Anyway, Mom's friend Kathy asked me if I was writing everything down. I assured her that I was, although I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to read it. She asked me if I ever wrote fiction. Hell no. I can't write. And I know that I can't write. I am perfectly comfortable having won one poetry contest (1999 Cochise)--and that was just because everyone else really sucked. I was probably competing against 11 year olds. Anyway, once someone has passed the age of 21, he or she should (at the very least) give up on writing poetry. (At the very most he or she should give up all writing). It is a very self-centered thing, writing is. I mean, first you have to believe that someone would actually want to read what you have to say. Hm. That is why I was so dead set against the idea of 'blogs at first. Then I started on. And then I just couldn't stop. Dreadful addiction. Ho hum.

Anyway, here is my prize-winning ($35) poem. Just for shits and giggles:

Creation holds a different rein
smiling from a box of Cracker Jacks.
My, how the mind melts sweet on the tongue
memories, like a taste of cotton candy--
the past is sweeter now than before.
All those years we thought we were different
growing through a semi-sort of childhood
rearing up to find us facing ourselves
a casual caricature of lifesprung like a prize from the bottom of the box.